You Will Remember
by Pyro146
Summary: Set during Iron Man 2, progressing through Thor and The Avengers. Two souls connect and ignite as a mischievous God falls for a mortal assassin. The love they share threatens to outlast eternity, yet Loki is doomed to fall and disappear after his betrayal. As an extra punishment, the woman he gave his heart to has her memories of him taken. Rated M for smut, violence, swearing,
1. Chapter 1

**Please read and tell me what you think. I considered doing a one shot of this idea, focusing on how angry he is at her complete ignorance of what happened between them, because of course during the Avengers he had no idea she has lost her memories of him. But I wanted to get into the initial relationship where they both fall for each other against their better judgement.**

* * *

Loki was a powerful God, there was no dispute of that fact in Asgard and even on the realm thought to be the lowest in status, he had been worshipped through the ages. Midgard was a favourite place of his to visit, his mischief could be managed with ease and the blame never fell back to him. The women were beautiful –not nearly as beautiful as the Goddesses who roamed the golden halls of his home world, but beautiful all the same. They fell for his charm so easily that it was almost boring; there was no thrill in the chase anymore. At a point in their history, tribes would sacrifice their most prized virgins, feasting and drinking and chanting as Loki took the virtue from the innocent girls, smearing their blood across his skin. He was darker in his rituals that his brother, who descended in a haze of lightning and revelled in the orgies thrown at him.

He had been appearing on Midgard more and more of late, Thor's coronation was approaching rapidly and while Loki was excited for him, it meant he would be found a bride not long after. It wasn't a huge deal for the Prince, he was not bound into monogamy, he would have a woman waiting for him the moment he stepped through his door and her only duty would be to serve him. A woman for him to own was enticing, yet somehow restricting. Even though it would not be frowned upon if he slept with Goddesses on the side, he would still have to come back to this same face, the same body, night after night.

The thought tired him, he enjoyed variety and adventure, there was no fun if she bent over and presented herself to him. He did not force women to his will as he used to, when the Gods were worshipped in Scandinavia with orgies and blood sacrifices, rape was rampant. Of all the things Midgardian history had spun into myth or simply forgotten, that little detail was remembered.

In a sense he was going on a binge with the upcoming coronation, sleeping with as many people as possible. Once he settled down, more would be expected of him, not in the least was children. His wife would have to care for them of course, but Loki enjoyed being a free man, using magic to ensure he did not impregnate the Midgardian whores he visited.

He never dropped in to the centre realm without causing some sort of anarchy; his favourite kinds of mischief were those that could be broadcasted over the mainstream media, which allowed events to be shown around the world. It was similar to Asgard heralds, who carried announcements to the gathering areas, but Midgardian technology allowed for the events to be watched live, as though the viewer was at the very scene.

His latest trip had been a week of seducing married woman and he adored it. These beautiful creatures put up a mild fight, they were promised to another man and they were bound to their husbands. Loki found it amusing that women were not punished as harshly as those on Asgard if the committed adultery. But it still created a mess, divorces, argument, fights; anything chaotic was what Loki aimed for. And what Loki wanted, he nearly always got. Thor knew of his exploits, most of them anyway and kept a good deal of it hidden from their father, who believed mortals should not be treated as the Gods used to treat them.

'_Humankind has evolved and grown. Respect them my son. One day Loki, you will understand_' Odin's words rolled around in Loki's mind often, merely to amuse him and give him a reason to smile. He disagreed strongly and he knew that would never change. What possibility was there of humans becoming anything better than filth to him? None.

He regarded them as lesser creatures, even as he stood among them dressed like them, acting like them, but knowing he was better than them in every way possible. He walked through them with an elegant flair, feeling eyes on him wherever he went and not just because he was taller than most of them. It was an important event of some kind, a race with automobiles that were apparently designed for speed and not for transport, which is what Loki thought to original design of the vehicles were for. The people gathered to view the event within the compound all carried status. At least status relevant on Midgard. Their high paying jobs and social circles would mean nothing on Asgard.

From what he had been able to figure out, humans worshipped celebrities as though they were new deities. Woman threw themselves at famous actors or billionaires, losing their dignity and respect in a heartbeat. One time Loki had thought about taking on the disguise of a famous person to claim their women. He was disgusted at the idea, how had it even crossed his mind? Why would he want to drop his status to become one of the filthy creatures. No, that was not an option. Although, the upside would be to create a scandal that would ruin a few lives.

The city of Monaco was beautiful, that was perhaps the other attractive of Midgard apart from the women, the sights that could be found around the world. Loki was both intrigued and shocked by the way humans destroyed their forests to make parking lots and malls, it seemed like a direct insult to what they called the 'Earth'. Which was evidently their name for the realm and also the dirt through which they trudged.

Loki had a habit of crashing sophisticated events, there was always a guarantee to find stunning trophy wives latched onto the arms of husbands that could not have pulled in such beauties without money or status. The VIP section was full of the most important people in the area, people that should have been honoured to be in Loki's presence, yet knew nothing of him. The God paused as he caught his reflection behind the large bar, the polished glass reflecting his emerald eyes and raven hair quite well, reminding him of how inferior all the mortal women and men were as they moved around him.

Already the trophy wives were casting appreciative glances in his direction but for once Loki was focusing more on his mischief, than his ever present sex drive. He was at an event viewed by millions around the world, he had already reserved to create some sort of destruction. He did consider a vehicle crash, it would be so easy, a flick of his hand. But that was so amateur and he was certainly better than that. His enchanting eyes flicked down as he ran a hand over his smooth black suit, straightening his green tie. Oh if these mortals only knew how easily they could be killed. It was almost tempting. Almost. Oh but he would never hear the end of it from Thor.

Loki refused to step back as a shorter man walked past him, closely enough that there was no way of avoiding contact. Loki could have stepped back, but he also could have ripped out the man's spine before anyone even understood what was going on.

"Oh, the rude ones are out today." The man smirked up at Loki with an arrogant expression. The God said nothing, focusing to quell the blood lust rising up, maybe he should show this mortal who he was trying to mess with. Before anyone could have their heads ripped off, the man branded with Loki's target was called away by a celebrity that Loki actually recognized. Tony…. Something. Sturk? No, Stack? Something like that, Loki didn't care enough to focus. The man was apparently a genius, a womanizer and had created a metal suit that could fly. Pathetic humans, if they had not lost their roots and forsaken the Gods, they would all the power to fly in one way or the other.

Tony seemed to be the centre of attention, catching the wandering eyes of the woman gathered, perhaps more than Loki was. That could not be allowed. Loki took a step forward, already planning on destroying this threat but the sight of his new target was blocked as a woman stepped up to the billionaire, inadvertently intervening.

Loki kept his composure, though the perfectly timed appearance of this woman bothered her. Another of those 'groupies' no doubt. Or was that term only applicable to bands? To Loki's mild surprise this woman didn't seem to be throwing herself at this man, she was conversing with him. Loki could hear them if he focused, his senses were all far more powerful than those around him. The moment he decided to listen in Tony gave the woman an order and she nodded, hurrying off with brisk strides. So possibly an assistant of his then.

The assistant was heading in Loki's direction, her eyes on the bartender. She stopped only a few feet away from Loki and he caught a full glimpse of her as she stepped up to order a drink. She was stunning, that was his first impression of her when he saw her face, her features were beautiful. Not in the same way as the many women around them, whose lips and cheeks and breasts had been enhanced by a method of plastic surgery. This assistant had clearly natural features and yet she was different in some way, altered genetically. Loki could tell from first glance, though he couldn't pinpoint it. He could sense she was more energy than any of the others in the room. Apart from himself of course. She was different. Still human, still mortal, but different.

It was enough to intrigue him. She wore little makeup, merely enough substance on her cheek to hide how pale she was and a shade across her lips to match her glorious crimson hair.

Periodically Loki was struck with strange visual flashes that disappeared as soon as he blinked. When they first occurred when he was much younger he believed he was seeing the future, but that was a gift reserved only for the seers. Loki was seeing people in their true form, seeing their secrets. As he watched the assistant take a large bottle of alcohol from the man behind the bar, he blinked once and then was hit with a slight dizziness, signalling the flash. His vision focused after a moment and he saw what he was meant to, blood dripping freely from the assistant's hands. It was flowing from her palms, pooling on the floor and splattering loudly.

Loki blinked and the image was gone, the red head was thanking the bartender and moving quickly away, returning to her boss. A smirk crossed Loki's lips as he watched her walk, the long crimson curls reaching down her back, shapely hips swaying slightly with every step. She was a killer, a murderer playing the role of an assistant. Loki did not know why, but there was enough metaphorical blood on her hands to urge him to find out. It had flowed thickly, meaning she had killed many, dozens, possibly hundreds. She stepped with calm demeanour as though she was guilty of nothing but oh her ledger was dripping with red.

His decision was immediate, this woman would be his that night, he was going to hold her under him until she screamed for him, unable to walk the next day. Yes the target had changed again and this time it was for pleasure rather than business. He watched her intently, studying this rare beauty as she returned to the table Tony had been at previously and looked around, not seeing him. Oh, so she was left alone? Time for the hunter to move in on his prey.

Surprised cries and excited statements could be heard from those around him and it distracted Loki as he realized everybody's focus was moving to the large television screens placed around the luxurious room. Loki smirked deviously as he saw what the fuss was about, Tony – something, was now dressed in a racer uniform, getting into one of those the vehicles that had been designed for speed.

The woman he had set his sights on slipped out of the room in such a subtle way that even Loki nearly missed her exit. All he saw was a flash of red hair disappearing through a side door. Loki followed without hesitation, weaving his way between those who could not tear their eyes from the screens. The fact that he was God meant he had the right to shove these people out of the way and slay any who did not fall on fall to their knees and revere him, but that would have taken longer than simply moving through the crowd.

He was hit with an overabundance of fragrant perfumes, filtering out the scents that meant nothing and focused on that of the red haired woman's smell. He detected vanilla and… something else, something that was her natural scent. She was different to the other mortals and he was going to find out what she was. And then he was going to have her, every which way.

He slipped through the door he had lost her through, finding himself in a restaurant styled sort of room for those not important enough to get into the VIP area. She was ahead of him, nearly at the other end of the room and his long legs moved faster in order to keep on her tail.

Suddenly she stopped and stiffened, her body stilling as though she was walking into something. She turned slowly and locked eyes with him, wary and cautious, obviously aware that he was following her.

A mortal had just picked up on the fact he was tailing her, yet all he could think about was the beauty of those eyes.


	2. Encounter

Natasha Romanoff was a fierce woman, viciously independent and skilled in such a vast range of talents that anyone who looked at her résumé would shake their head in simple disbelief. She was SHIELD's lead interrogator, their greatest assassin, she could speak every language that mattered and she could kill with any object in any room, including her own body. So it was shock even to her, when she received official orders to infiltrate the office of Tony Stark and portray his assistant. It was essentially a babysitting gig and she was insulted that the paper work had made it to her desk in the first place. Her first thought was to chase up her Director and ask him why she had been stuck with the job, perhaps it was a mistake. Yet she knew as well as anybody that SHILED did not make mistakes.

The rundown of the operation had been gruelling, she was to make herself as alluring as possible, as she was only being placed as an assistant sent from the Legal Department, in order to officiate the handing over of Stark's business to his long time second in command Pepper Potts. The plan was to ensure Ton noticed her and went above Pepper's head to hire her as his own personal assistant. The plan worked out after the very first time she met him and he made the mistake of putting her in the ring with a man charged to protect the billionaire. Natasha had shown immediately that she was not just a pretty face and she had achieved her goal of capturing Tony's attention.

It should have been a simple undercover mission; she had expected it to be achingly boring right from the start and wished many times that another female agent had been slammed with the task. Though it rapidly became apparent that if this was a babysitting scenario, then Tony was a misbehaving toddler. He disappeared constantly, skipping scheduled appointments and showing up at random events. It reminded her that even the simplest seeming missions could turn into something chaotic and fatal.

It quickly became a game, where Pepper and Natasha were the players and Tony was some sort of prize, the object was to keep an eye on him at all times. Except she had a supreme advantage over the famous Pepper Potts, Natasha knew very well that Tony was slowly approaching his demise. And he knew it too, judging by his erratic behaviour, the handing over of his business, selling his private collections, donating millions under anonymous identities.

Her disguise as Natalie Rushman was working well, she was not under suspicion from anybody that met her while portraying Tony's assistant. He unlocked doors for her, slots into A-list events and important parties. Places Natasha did not want to be. There were foreign dignitaries at many of those events and she had screwed over nearly all of them. Both while she was freelance and while she was working under SHIELD.

Tailing Tony was difficult, even while playing his assistant and getting full access to wherever he went. He was still good at giving her the slip though, surprising enough in itself considering she was a highly ranked agent of SHIELD. She was starting to get good at predicting when he was about to take off, at least until the incident in Monaco when she walked away only a couple of minutes to get him a bottle of scotch from the bar.

As she moved back to the table and discovered he was gone, her rage threatened to break through her composure. She soon figured out where he had slipped off to, as full focus of the eyes in the room fell upon the screens.

"No, Stark what are you doing!" She hissed, watching him speaking to driver of one of the race cars –the car Stark was sponsoring. The billionaire had dropped the crisp black suit in favour of the blue racing uniform and it was only the gasps heard around the room that covered the sound of her knuckles cracking, her fists balling tightly. How was she supposed to keep an eye on him and ensure his safety if he decided to risk his life constantly? She had to get to him, had to drag his stubborn ass out of the racing car in a way that didn't blow her cover.

Could she play the damsel in distress? Fall to the ground in front of him and demand his attention. She shuddered at the idea, it went against every aspect of her nature, but she couldn't let him compete in the race. He was a good driver, she knew that for a fact, but she had to stop him. He was weaker than he was admitting even to himself, if he collapsed during the race it could be fatal.

She turned on her heel and smoothly exited the large room full of the upper class people acting as though they were a separate race from anything below them in status. The adjoining restaurant was as busy as it had been when they originally came through, but those gathered for the meal seemed to be transfixed on the latest developments unfolding on the circuit track. Natasha knew time was of the essence, she had to get to the starting line and stop the foolhardy idiot from killing himself.

Instinct made her pause mid-step and she slowly put her foot down, overwhelmed with the feeling that there were eyes on her. Not the usual perverted eyes belonging to the men, their vision ghosting over her figure and seeing her as nothing more than a woman with slender curves in all the right places, wearing a dress that could not have highlighted her body in a more elegant way without being overly revealing. No the eyes locked to her were in focus, they weren't just looking at her, they were watching her and observing her.

She turned and found her target immediately, a tall figure standing between the rows of tables, the only person in the room apart from her that was not watching the raised plasma screens showing the latest exploits of Tony Stark. This man was regarding her as though he could see through her, _into _her. His expression was completely unreadable and Natasha actually narrowed her eyes at him a little, worried and confused that she could gain nothing about him from his face.

From an incredibly young age Natasha had been trained to read men like open books, to study expression and body language in order to build a profile. She was the best interrogator in her organization because she knew which buttons to press, she knew when someone was lying, even if they had learned to fool a lie detector. She knew when to push forward or hold back, just by looking into her target's eyes.

The only thing she could obtain from her first glimpse of this man was that his eyes seemed impossibly green, too bright to be a natural colour and too full of depth to be read. He was stunning, everything about him was instantly alluring, from his sleek black hair to his high cheekbones, to the way he stood with his shoulders held high with dignity. And those lips, somehow holding a tone of severity and just a hint of playfulness.

Natasha could obtain no definitive detail about this stranger, other than one single point; everything about him screamed danger.

She needed to be cautious of him, he was clearly a threat, though he wasn't even standing in a way that suggested him to be an enemy. But Natasha had been around enough dangerous men to know he was one of them.

It was strange to be torn as she was internally, having one urge to know more about her watcher, to discover why his allure was so strong. But she was duty bound to ensure Stark did not lose his head.

Screams and shocked gasps called her attention to the screens again and she found it a monumental effort to tear her eyes from the emerald eyed man. She swore under her breath as she watched cars crashing through the live feed in the TV, a man was walking onto the track, risking his very life. Natasha forgot about her watchful stranger for a moment and took a step forward to the nearest television, studying this man who was holding whips. They were electrified in some way and there were shocked reactions all around her as the crowd watched him crack one whip down to slice an entire car in half, the shredded vehicle skittering in parts across the track, flaming as it crashed.

There were barriers all around the circuit of course, the track ran through the city so there needed to be a good deal of protection in case of an accident –or a direct attack. What concerned her, was not only the way these cars were being taken down, but the fact that the force of their crashing was projecting the pieces of flaming metal and wreckage high over the edge of the barriers.

The restaurant was close enough to the edge of the track to give those within an excellent view, through a window that covered the whole wall, giving the illusion of being outside and therefor closer to the action itself. She sensed the danger before anyone else in the room did, not the same kind as the dangerously alluring man who caught her attention on moments before, it was an imminent threat that sent chills down her spine and pricked her skin. Time seemed to slow for her, as it always did when there was some kind of hazard that demanded her attention. She whirled around, facing the direction of the window before anyone else around her had even figured out that there was a flaming chuck of car speeding through the air towards them.

She had picked up on it too late, her crimson curls were falling loosely around her shoulders by the time the incoming projectile had breached the wall of glass. In her mind death had already been picked as the only possible outcome, even if she lunged to the side, her legs would not escape and would be crushed. Her battle strategy and predictions were usually correct to the last detail and she knew there was no way she could escape death in that heart stopping moment.

An iron grip secured around her arm as she was yanked to the side so violently she wound have been thrown to the ground if her saviour hadn't blocked her with his body. She both felt and heard the explosion, the force of it whipping her hair around her face and the deafening sound of it popping her eardrums. With that kind of force and volume from the explosion, she knew by instinct that they were in the centre of it yet she could not feel her body being blown into shreds. She looked around, feeling her hair being whipped around, as though in a storm.

Her eyes widened as she saw the flames, not just a little on the floor but swirling all around her. They should have been eating her alive, devouring her body and burning her to ash. But she felt nothing, even though the searing flames were clearly strong and powerful. But she wasn't the only one untouched by the fire's appetite, the tall man who had been eyeing her before was standing beside her, one hand gripping her arm so tightly that it was surprising his nails weren't breaking her skin. His other hand was held out in front of him, his emerald eyes concentrating on the vicious flames as though telling them to stop with his hand.

A comical concept, except she should have been taken by the flames and they were not touching her, bypassing both of them as the explosion continued its course and then faded, revealing the damage to the restaurant. People had been killed and gravely injured, that was immediately apparent and screams of pain and anguish filled the air. The hold released on her arm and her head snapped towards the man who had apparently saved her. His green eyes held a slight amusement at her clear confusion and the corner of his lips twitched into a condescending smirk. He raised a slender finger to his lips as he watched her, his eyes studying her as intently as she was studying him.

She opened her mouth to ask him what the hell had just happened, if she was in some kind of sock, if she just hallucinated him protecting her from the flames in a way that couldn't be possible. He started to move away, still smirking at her as though he enjoyed her state. She tried to protest him leaving, she had to understand what had happened, her mind needed to hear the explanation. But she was being swarmed by other people, reporters trying to get her story, paramedics trying to check her for injuries. She tried to push them away and find the raven haired man, but he was already wandering away, his hands clasped behind his back. Natasha would have had to break her cover and kill all these people in order to chase her savoir down.

* * *

Later that evening Natasha sat in the small office of her recently rented apartment, her fingers rapidly moving over the keyboard in front of her and eyes locked onto the screen of her monitor. She was in the process of locating all of the footage from that day, whether it was from a security system of the building or from the cameras of the many reporters and tourists gathered for the race.

She was searching for visual evidence of what had happened to her, the event had not left her mind and while she knew she should have reported it to her organization, she had no idea what to say. They might have thought her crazy, maybe assuming the stress of the job was finally getting to her. There was no room in SHIELD for insane assassins. And there was no such thing as a retired assassin; that was a loose end that nobody wanted hanging around. She wasn't surprised when she discovered that while there was plenty of footage of her miraculous survival, though none of it was whole. Instead there was about five different cameras that managed to record Natasha and her stranger, but at an odd angle.

It took her half an hour to run through a program that could piece the images together, it was sketchy but it would have to do, she just needed to see what had happened. She needed to reassure herself that she had not imagined the strange man and the way he saved her.

She hit play and leaned forward, even though she could have seen the screen perfectly if she was seated normally. Where the images joined there was a fuzzy line to blend the colors, but it was watchable. She watched herself walk through the restaurant, stop suddenly and turn. The man who had flared her instincts was not on the screen and she narrowed her eyes a little as only a second later the image of her turned towards the glass wall of the establishment, sensing the new threat. From what she remembered, her standoff with her observer had been over a minute long, yet apparently transpired over only a couple of seconds.

Without removing her eyes from the screen, she reached for her coffee, fingers curling around the warm mug and bringing it to her lips to take a sip. She immediately coughed and spluttered as she watched the screen, stunned when the man seemed to teleport to her side and grab her arm, yanking her roughly out of dangers way. She set down her coffee and her fingers flew across the keyboard, rewinding the video and zooming in, maybe she had blinked and missed something. But no, one moment she was the only one there and the next, he was beside her, pulling her to safety.

She tapped a few buttons to slow it down frame by frame, hitting the arrow key to select the next still image. There was nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing and then suddenly a bluish haze in the air, lasting for only a single frame, and then he appeared, his hand reaching for her arm.

She shuffled back and rose to her feet, dropping her cup on the desk so suddenly that the liquid sloshed over the edges, running a shaking hand through her curling locks. She was wearing only her training shorts and a black tank top, the night was unusually warm but she found herself shaking and not from the cold. Her hands kept pushing her hair back from her face as she paced a full circle around her desk and leaned back down towards the computer, running through frame by frame again. It couldn't be, it simply couldn't be right. This wasn't possible.

Her head snapped up as she heard a scraping noise, sounding not far from her closed office door. Without even blinking her right hand pulled a gun from the top desk drawer and she made her way through the apartment to the small balcony door which was open just enough for a person to slip through.

Oddly, she knew for absolute certain that she had closed it and made sure it was locked. Natasha was not the type to leave doors or windows open by accident.

Her senses pricked in a way that reminded her directly of when she had sensed someone following and watching her in the restaurant. She spun around so fast that her curls were dislodged and fell loosely around her pale face long after she finished turning.

"Good evening." A self-satisfied voice spoke up from the centre of her lounge and she took a moment to realize the man who had not left her mind all day, was seated on her couch.


	3. Fatal Attraction

It took very little effort for Loki to track down the location of the woman he had inexplicably been driven to save. Usually the destructive God left a trail of death in his wake upon his visits to Midgard, not enough to arouse the attention of Thor or their father but enough to ensure he took some enjoyable memories back to Asgard. Human life meant nothing to him, as far as he was concerned the Midgardians were there for his entertainment only. And yet there had been no hesitation from him when he saw the danger presented to her. The redhead would have died if he had not intervened, both of them were well aware of that fact. Though he hid it well, he had been as shocked as her, but more leaning towards the fact that he had actually acted instead of watching her be crushed in a fiery haze.

Loki's intelligence was revered in Asgard, at least among those who were intelligent themselves. In the circles that focused on strength and brawn alone, Loki was nothing more than a feeble child. He could best any warrior, but he used magic and trickery to do so. Not something enjoyed by Thor and his friends. The fact that he had been presented with something unknown irked him. He knew not what she was, nor why he saved had saved her.

No matter how many times the incident replayed in his mind, he could find no reason for his sudden leap towards her. And so the decision to find her had come after very little internal debate, his tracking skills proved as strong as ever when his magic led him to the building she clearly resided in. Locating her specific apartment had not been difficult, he merely asked the receptionist if there were any red heads in the building.

'_Oh, well there's Miss Rushman on the 9__th__ floor, her hair is about as red as they come. Pretty too, that one. Got some important job, I forget the details… I want to say assistant but.. that might not be right. Something similar though, walking in sharply dressed, I mean really sharply dressed, heels that could carve out a heart if she desirde it…..'_

Loki had opted to simply walk away as the middle aged woman prattled on and on, her use fulfilled. The God paused at the elevator doors, his slender finger raised and merely inches from the button. Perhaps a surprise would be a better way of beginning their next encounter. Loki had long since learned that if others were uneasy, he was more relaxed. Because he could not understand his experience with this woman, he was put off guard. If he could make that happen to her, surely he would calm.

He turned on his heel and his hands automatically coming to clasp behind his back, shoulder set back, raised high as they always were. He may have been nothing compared to Thor in the eyes of many people, but Loki was a royal Prince of Asgard and he had higher standing than anybody who attempted to look down on him. His poise alone always showed that.

His initial plan was to knock on her door and invite himself in, but he recalled that there were a series of balconies for the top floors, starting from the 5th level, so his target was definitely in an apartment with access to one.

Loki stood on the street and ignored the impatient people bustling past, his gaze focused solely on the building before him. It was a simple matter of blinking and waving his hand, even behind his back. The very next second he was no longer on the side walk, but on one of the 9th floor balconies. As luck would have it, he had chosen the correct one and did not have to keep searching. He could smell her, albeit faintly, he would assume she spent very little time on the balcony –if any.

The sliding door was locked as he expected, but the lock slid open with another wave of his hand and he stepped inside, out of the chilling evening. To Loki's confusion he had always enjoyed the cold, at least more than any Asgardian should have. The scent of the woman was far stronger once within the confines of her dwelling, which wasn't much to boast of –though it did seem clean and organized.

There was a large flat screen TV on one wall and two matching couches in the lounge, but other than that the room was barren, no personal effects, no pictures of any kind. He had discovered most Midgardian homes were full of such things, still images that had recorded personal events. But there was nothing in the lounge, nor the kitchen, which was just as clean and devoid of life. If her scent had not been flooding his nostrils he would have assumed no tenants were currently occupying the space.

The God paced from the lounge to the kitchen and back again, his footsteps absolutely silent regardless of the thick boots encasing his feet. He should have moved heavily, as the other warriors of his homeland did but Loki had always been more graceful and elegant. His long legs moved him back to one of the couches and he dropped lightly onto it. He was now dressed in his full robes, not one of the Midgardian suits he had adorned previously. His look would have been best described as regal, perhaps even kingly. He was definitely a royal, any fool would have been able to see that.

His entire body froze as the occupant of the dwelling emerged from another room and moved straight to the balcony door which had been left open by Loki. He announced his presence and was admittedly surprised at the speed of her reflex as she turned towards him, a familiar weapon in her hand. Part of his mind took note of the firearm and that was the warrior side of him, the side that recognized a weapon was being aimed at him and quickly identified it, assessing a threat level.

But another side of him –the male side, saw the woman and not the small weapon. She was barely clothed, wearing nothing but a thin shirt and shorts, by the Gods she would be eaten alive if she roamed the golden halls of Asgard in her current outfit, which evidently left _very_ little to the imagination by the way it hugged her toned curves. Loki was not as enchanted by her beauty as most men would have been, not only did he roam around the woman on Midgard, but he lived with genuine Goddesses. But he certainly noticed how attractive she was and could immediately list many royal women from home that she surpassed in pure beauty. Perhaps it was the color of her hair, which was not familiar to Loki. On Asgard hair was a solid color, Loki's was raven black, his brother's was blonde, as were many of the God's and Goddesses.

She was feisty this one, if the color of her hair did not immediately tell him that, perhaps it was the way she held her weapon. Raised and steady, aimed so expertly that he doubted she was even capable of missing. Loki had seen what kind of damage those weapons could do, shooting tiny projectiles that could kill a man instantly. Loki could not say for sure if such a weapon could kill him, but he did know that his healing abilities could bring him back from the edge of death so he was willing to assume he would survive if she pulled the trigger.

"Now now." Loki's self-satisfied smile did not fade as he smoothly transitioned to his feet, much taller than her when they were both at full height. Her aim changed as he moved, in line with the center of his forehead and never wavering. "Is that any way to treat a guest, Miss Rushman?"

Her expression did not change, he could not read this woman and it bothered him, though of course he wasn't going to let her know that.

"What are you?" Her voice was hard, but held just enough of something that let him know she craved the answer. He also picked up on her wording, not 'who' but 'what.' Clever girl, she wasn't going to pretend that he was normal and she was apparently desperate to be assured she was not going crazy.

Having her in his presence refreshed her scent and he could _smell_ her energy. There was something intriguing about this woman, she was something he had not come across before and he was tempted to revert her question straight back at her. His hands remained behind his back, his fingers shifting slightly to disable her weapon. She had no fear in her expression, nor in her eyes, if he did anything to threaten her she was definitely the type who would shoot instantly.

"Do you really want to know what I am?" His fingers were still as his work had finished and he casually strolled to the side, pacing in line with the couch, aware of her gun never lowering as he stepped silently. "Knowing what I am will only open more questions and I for one, am rather interested in you." He glanced back, seeing no change in her whatsoever and he hadn't expected any.

"You broke in, you talk first." She said simply, beautiful lips forming the words in an enchanting way. If Loki had any less will power, he would have been in danger of falling under her spell.

"The door was open." Loki answered, still moving in a way that suggested he was just going to circle her like a shark hunting for a swimmer.

"It was locked." She didn't miss a beat, her eyes locked directly to his.

"Perhaps you forgot to lock it?" He phrased the words like a question and again her reply was instantaneous.

"I didn't."

Well she was right, he couldn't argue with that. She was very astute and the more pieces she gave him, the more Loki desired to finish the puzzle.

"How did you do what you did?" She asked before he could speak any further. There was a burning anger in her, born from her confusion and fuelled by his presence. The more she let herself lose composure, the easier he could read her.

Loki did not reveal his true identity to every woman he slept with, but he had told a few over the ages. For varying reasons and usually in different ways. He had learnt not to simply announce his title, for Loki could not stand being laughed out and any human who dared laugh at his expense was eradicated from their planet instantly. He had learned to _show_ rather than tell, usually by some form of magic and nearly always he had wiped their memories after the encounter.

He took a moment to decide which way to reveal himself to this woman, stepping back a little and breaking the circle. His feet ceased in their movement and his arms splayed in front of him, palms flat as they faced her. He spread his fingers and saw her jaw tighten in preparation; aware he was going to do something though she would have no idea what it was.

Both of his thumbs flicked and the gun went sailing from her hands, flying across the room to clatter across the ground in the kitchen somewhere. It would have been a lie if he said he did not enjoy the surprise and confusion that instantly crossed her face. Before she could gather herself and react, Loki closed his left hand into a fist and the edge of his lips twitched slightly. During his pacing he had managed to circle her and reverse their positions so that she was now in front of the couch that he had been sitting on when she entered the room.

At his hand movement, the couch sprung forward and caught her behind the knees, ensuring she was quite literally swept off her feet as she dropped onto the leather. He would freely admit how much satisfaction he felt when the shock crossed her face. She was on her feet instantly, but did not advance towards him or step to the side as Loki had anticipated and any surprise was wiped from her face in an instant, her composure returning as she stepped backwards onto the top of the couch, balancing impossibly well. She didn't pause to even let him try to understand what she was planning, instead she bent her legs slightly and launched backwards, flipping at an angle that required more flexibility than a human should have. Her leg flicked up and he was so focused on the graceful movement of her body that he didn't realize what she had kicked towards him until it was too late.

As she flipped, her foot had purposely connected with the light hanging from the ceiling. There was a bulb inside a nicely styled glass shade and it shattered across his face after coming loose and flying towards him. He turned and tried to shield himself but not soon enough, the pain was manageable but the shame was not. This Midgardian had gotten the jump on him, she had not even been trying to distract him with her body and it had still worked.

When the God recovered he looked for her even while he brushed the bloodied shards of glass from his face. She was moving with speed to the kitchen, no doubt going for her gun which would be of no use to her anyway. Loki did not hesitate for even a moment, he slammed his fist towards the roof in a mime action and laced the air with magic. The God watched with malicious satisfaction as his attacker was lifted from the floor and thrown to the ceiling at a speed that would cause broken bones. She let out a cry which cut out on impact and Loki let his hand fall so that he body would drop –along with half of the roofing tiles that she had crashed into.

His own heartbeat was pounding in his eardrums as Loki licked his lips, a dark expression across his face. It disappeared in a flash when he realized what had just happened. His intention had not been to kill her, he had tracked her down to learn why she captured his attention in a way that he was not ready to acknowledge. Even if she had attacked him, she was a feeble human and no threat to him, meaning his actions were dishonourable since a human battling a God was no different than a soldier battling an old man with a walking stick. This was not the first time he had lost control, it was happening more and more lately but it was the first time in years that he regretted his actions instantly.

It was the strong scent of her blood that snapped him from his daze and drew him over to her still body which had been covered by the rubble from the ceiling after it rained down on her. Loki flicked his hand and the broken ceiling tiles fell aside, revealing the way her body was clearly lying at an unhealthy angle. She was definitely alive, her heart beat was there though it was remarkably faint. From his first glance Loki could see her shoulder was fractured, his anger had fuelled the force of his actions and she looked as though she had been thrown from a high building.

It should have been so easy for him to walk away, this was just another human to him and certainly not the first to die at his hand. For her injuries would surely kill her if she was not given medical help. So why could the God not simply walk away? He had done this, he had allowed his anger to best him in the same way that children could not control their emotions and outbursts. It was more humiliating to have snapped at a _woman_ than it was to have been attacked by one.

He knelt beside her battered body and rested his palm on her shoulder. A light action that would have caused blinding pain if she had been awake. As it was she stirred lightly, her lips parting as though to speak but she was clearly still unconscious. The air around his hand shimmered lightly and if he concentrated he could literally feel her bones mending back together. Once an Asgardian shows promise of sorcery, the first thing they are taught is the art of healing. Only once they have mastered medicinal care are they shown how to attack with their gift. It is to show the importance of life over death, to teach someone that it is always better to heal, than to kill.

Loki, being one of the greatest sorcerers Asgard had ever seen even at his young age, was more than skilled at healing. But there were very few times he had healed anybody other than himself. Before healing this woman's shoulder, Thor was the only person to experience Loki's skill and only on fatal wounds such as hunting accidents and one time a spear through the neck.

Once he was finished with her shoulder, his fingers trailed up across her neck and rested lightly on her temple where a large gash was bleeding heavily. After that too had been taken care of, she seemed to wake but not entirely. Her eyes opened ever so slightly and her pupils moved but while she appeared to look at him, he knew she could not focus.

"Ribs.." She coughed, blood dribbling out of her mouth and trailing down her cheek. Her body was not paralyzed but she did not move, as if she could sense that Loki was helping her. Loki's hand moved down her chest and ran purposely over her breasts, rather enjoying the warmth before his palm setting over her ribs. It was immediately apparent that not only were the ribs crushed, but they were piercing her lung, hence the blood welling up in her mouth. She coughed and Loki gave no warning before pressing down harshly on her side, having to use magic to pull her ribs back into line and only then could he seal them into place. Though she tried to hide her pain, a cry was torn from her throat along with the sound of her choking on her own blood.

That covered all the major wounds, the rest being only scratches and minor gashes but Loki found himself moving his hands over her to heal those to.

"Who… are you.." She was no longer dying, but clearly still weak. Loki noticed she changed to 'who' this time instead of 'what.'

"I am Loki of Asgard, brother of Thor and son of Odin, the Allfather" He said, his emerald eyes travelling back up her body to settle on her face. "And what is your name?" Normally he added wench when speaking to the Midgardian whores he bedded and a lot of them like it, liked being treated that way. But this one deserved respect.

"Natalie… Natalie Rushman." She murmured, barely getting out the words but managing not to cough. She was lying, but Loki could not question her further as he could feel her energy slipping away as she passed out. Her body stilled as she fell unconscious and Loki paused a moment before slipping one arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees so he could lift her from the ground. It did not take long to find her room and despite the fact that she was bloodied Loki set her gently on her bed, assuming she would not care about stains.

She truly was beautiful and Loki found himself marvelling at her. This was a human woman with more allure than a Goddess. Clearly he was a danger to her health, but he needed to know more, needed to unravel the mystery that surrounded her. The God was tempted to watch her a while longer, but he felt a sharp pain in the back of his mind which was a very clear sign that his father was calling him back.

Loki frowned and tore his eyes from the sleeping beauty, moving quickly through her apartment and locked the door the balcony, before he took a steadying breath and thought of his home, of Asgard.

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